How Comical
by Willibaldvonsomething
Summary: It was all a play, and they the actors. The thoughts of a God as he fell. About himself, the lone wolf, the selfless shark, and the thieving insect. After all, if you know it's a play, why not laugh at the tragedy as much as the comedy?


How comical. This is how it ends. Not by the hands of anyone stronger than me, not by the cero of a fellow vasto lord in a glorious battle that could at least do me the honor of earning their place.

No.

It was an insect.

A pathetic and insignificant insect that killed me.

That damn fat, smiling shinigami. A vizard or some other pointless term.

A mockery. That's what this whole thing was. A mockery of life, of death. Of the greatness that could be achieved through conquest. Of the power gained by forcing your enemy to submit, before tearing into them, body and soul. Devouring them for the purpose of growing stronger...

Maybe I am just a product of a dying age... a better age, but a dying age none the less. When things made sense, and when hollows acted like hollows. Instead of these false shinigami...

Regardless. I will meet my death with the same attitude I met my life as a hollow. Arrogant, loud and raging till the end, not stopping until I have faded to nothing more than dust in the wind.

I spent centuries doing nothing more than consuming. Soul after soul, hollow after hollow, Menos after Menos, Adjuchas after Adjuchas and finally Vasto Lordes after Vasto Lorde until I reached a point where I could wear the name of God with ingrained pride.

I enjoyed it for a time. The thrill of a job well done, the sight of looking over the never ending sands of Hueco Mundo in it's eternal night, knowing that everything before me, was mine. And Las Noches... ah Las Noches.. truly a palace fit for a god... I shall miss it..

But like all things it came to an end. Time. My greatest weapon and in the end my greatest weakness turned on me.

What does a king with nothing left to conquer do? When there are no more enemies to devour or fall before my axe... I could do nothing but wait.. hope for a challenge to relieve the boredom.. or in the event of that something to provide a good laugh...

Isn't it a shame when a God wants for nothing more than something to do? Shouldn't a God have everything? But there I sat upon my throne, for untold decades doing nothing more than staring out at the sands, thinking about old conquests, reminiscing of a time when the insects were a threat. When I could have been felled by something other than my own absolute power..

At least I will get the last laugh once I am finally dead... I may have lost, but I will take that little pleasure, that small joy in knowing that if even a God may fail. That bastard Aizen will one day meet his fate as well. And when he does. I'll be there. Like time itself. Waiting.

* * *

Starkk.. Almost a paragon among hollows by nature... his very existence was proof of the laws of Hueco Mundo. That the only worth of the weak is death, to be killed or consumed. A task he did without thought. A task he did simply by standing there, atop a mountain of corpses.

Such a shame he was so weak...

To desire a companion.. to desire something other than power or conquest... I suppose even for a God, the thoughts of the weak are foreign..

But I hated him... hated him for what he represented. He was strong enough to be named the 1st. The Primera Espada. An insult. Nothing more than salt, fire and brimstone, rubbed onto the aching wound on my pride.

To have power, to be so close to something more than a weak, insignificant bug... I hated him... to have the power to do so much but all he wanted to do was sit there.. sleeping or talking to that brat of his. The brat that made him weak. The brat that was created by a desire to be weaker...

A desire that made him bow before Aizen. To serve someone weaker than him out of a desire for comrades, companions.. friends.

It was an insult to the very nature of Hollows... I hope his death is painful.. To have the ability to do so much and throw it all away for something as insignigant as companionship... And if he makes it.. actually.. I hope he lives while he watches his precious companions cut down by the man, until they are nothing more than a familiar sight. Alone, surrounded by a mountain of corpses.

Worthless...

* * *

Harribel.. A rare specimen. Female, so even rare.

Too many, a female hollow seems like an impossibility, almost a paradox. We are creatures of blood, of destruction, of a wish to consume... and yet, too often do we forget that a woman is just as lethal as a man if given the right incentive..

A foolish and trivial thought, but that's what most thoughts are in the end. Pointless and a waste of time.

Just like her crusade.. An effort to get other female hollows to band together. To defend themselves, to protect or if needed sacrifice themselves for one another.

It made me want to vomit when I first heard of it. To expect someone else to stand at your side? To fight with your back to someone, anyone, willing? I fully expected her to be dead in a year.

But she almost impressed me. If I ever asked of a certain female hollow, I'd always get the same news. She's alive and still in a group. A group that by all odds should have died with her long ago... and soon enough, I got word that she'd finally reached the point of a Vasto Lorde...

I hoped she'd join my army, a rare talent indeed but no.. every time I gave her my generous offer, she turned me down and left. I could respect that, and on the occasion we fought, I learned to respect her. A gemstone among the coal..

But like Starkk she was weak...

She couldn't bend her knee fast enough when that bastard showed up. The whore ate up his lies, of a united Hueco Mundo where the weak would not only live but thrive!

With I as the first stepping stone...

If she dies, good riddance. I will enjoy laughing at her stupidity, at the trust and respect she had for a damn shinigami. But if she lives.. let her learn from this. Let her take away the lesson that strength is an absolute. That if only she was strong, that if she had managed to kill me, her dream, as twisted and demented as it is, was the correct path.

In Hueco Mundo, the strong rule and the weak serve. She could have used our own law against us.

Worthless...

* * *

Aizen... there are no words that could do for the hatred I have for you. How I will spend every life after this cursing your name to my last breath for the things you have done to me. You didn't beat me. You didn't give me that small grace. You didn't make a God submit. All you did was lie. Lie and spin your webs like a damn spider.

You didn't give me a choice. If you did, I would have chosen death over serving you. Instead, you bent me to your will. At every chance you had, you bended, shattered, manipulated and broke my reality. To ensure, not my loyalty, but my obedience.

Time. My most trusted ally became my greatest weakness as in the span of an hour you could make it seem like a year had passed. You warped me from a God, an absolute into something broken. Some beaten mutt that sat, yapping away unless it was given an order.

The things I've seen, and the extents you went to in some mad quest to defy the inevitable. For the hundreds of thousands of millennium that I had to go through, the pain that never stopped or the horrors that will haunt me to this day, in the span of a minute for you to drag my living corpse before you. Like a puppet, I was forced to kneel by strings I had no hope of cutting. I was forced to watch as you desecrated Las Noches, erecting your monstrous walls or defiling our eternal night with a false sun.

Loathe entirely.. that is a better phrase than hatred to describe how I feel for you with your damn tea, hair curl and smug self. I will spend an eternity laughing when your beaten and failed self joins me in the afterlife. That is what you deserved. You were not a god. You did not earn your power.

You are nothing more than a thief, who flew too close to the sun. So as I watch you burn, as wax wings that brought you so far melt, searing into your flesh before you crash into the cold, hard ground beneath you, I will laugh, and laugh at this damn play that came before us. At the utter pointlessness of your actions.

How comical.

* * *

For in the end your life was a comedy, and mine a tragedy.


End file.
